


Ambivalent

by pixielove



Category: One Direction
Genre: F/M, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Tension, Unintentional Cheating, Unresolved Emotional Tension, larry angst, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:38:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixielove/pseuds/pixielove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ambivalent: ADJECTIVE - "Having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone". How can someone who makes you so strong make you so weak? How can someone you love to infinity make you feel so much pain, so much anger, so much self-loathing and even hatred?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. More Than This

Heart expanding behind his ribcage, a dizzy and delirious feeling overcame Harry as he stood between Zayn and Niall, arms thrown around their shoulders as he took a bow, waving to the crowd of adoring fans holding up all their beautiful banners. He’d never tire of this. He could do this until he took his last breath. Harry’s eyes always sought the crowd, always coming back to the same familiar faces, the ones marching to the beat of a different drummer – his faraway friends, his equals, his soul mates. The ones with the rainbow signs, banners reading things like ‘We’ll support you no matter what,’ and the odd ‘Larry Stylinson’ banner, which always made his heart swell in his chest like a hot air balloon. He could recall every moment, every time he’d deliberately changed a lyric, every time their eyes met during _Little Things._ Every meaningful song. Every stolen glance. A girl’s arm extended out and waving to him, drawing him closer – and Harry’s eyes were trained to find it in a heartbeat. _Larry._ He recalled the thumbs up he gave her, and how he kept returning to her, returning to the same familiar face in a sea of faces.

The tour was over, and leaving the now empty arena with Louis and his brothers, he felt wholly ambivalent, and his heart was thudding in his chest, heavy with the weight of his ambivalence. It was the right word. He’d been curled up with Louis on their last day off between shows, sat in the tour bus watching _Girl, Interrupted_ at Harry’s request. Louis had sighed fondly and downloaded it for his boy with the heart eyes and they’d ended up curled in each other’s arms, but before too long they’d migrated to Harry’s bunk with Harry being the little spoon and Louis the big spoon, curled into Harry, the laptop balancing on Harry’s knees, gaping holes torn at the kneecaps of his jeans.  

_“I’m ambivalent. In fact that’s my new favourite word.”_

_“Do you know what that means, ambivalence?”_

“Does she look like she swallowed a dictionary?” Louis had scoffed, rolling his eyes and muttering about shrinks under his breath.

“Susanna’s a writer, Lou. Of course she metaphorically swallowed a dictionary.”

“She’s not a writer. She _plans_ on writing. There’s a difference.”

_“I don’t care.”_

_“If it’s your favourite word, I would’ve thought you would…”_

_“It *means* I don’t care. That’s what it means.”_

_“On the contrary, Susanna. Ambivalence suggests strong feelings…in opposition. The prefix, as in ‘ambidextrous,’ means “both”. The rest of it, in Latin, means “vigour”. The word suggests you are torn… between two opposing courses of action”._

Harry was ambivalent. About everything. He welcomed the break – on the one hand, relishing at the thought of lazy mornings in bed with Louis and time with Ed and perhaps even a catch up with Nick. The thought of spending some time with Gemma, his mum, Robin and Des – catching up with the Tomlinson girls, Dan, Jay and the baby twins…and goofing off with the boys without a care in the world. And on the other hand, he knew he’d miss the adrenalin, the screams, the songs, the beautiful and familiar songs that were home to him. If he was singing them, then he was home – wherever in the world he was. As long as he was with the boys and Lou, he was home. But that wasn’t all that he was torn about. It was everything. Because you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Eleanor. The wicked beard, who he both hated and didn’t hate and felt “ambivalent” towards. If Susanna’s original definition was anything to go by, Harry “didn’t care”. He didn’t care.

Except Harry and Susanna had been wrong, and as it turned out, “not caring” actually meant caring. Caring too much. Caring too strongly, and being torn by the intensity of strong opposing emotions…

Harry needed a distraction.

“Bazza, why are you moping in the corner over there?” Liam asked, throwing an arm over Harry’s shoulder, squashed together in the car (Zayn and Louis were in a separate car), and heading toward the hotel.

“Not moping,” Harry moped in his slow husky drawl, earning a huff from Liam.

“Brighten up, sunshine,” Niall chimed in, “because we’re going out tonight and then we’re having a party in my suite.”

“If you say so,” Harry said shortly. Liam frowned.

“Haaaaz… tell Daddy Direction what’s wrong…” Liam said, trying to tug a dimpled smile from Harry’s cheeks.

“I just… I dunno, feels a bit weird, doesn’t it? The tour coming to an end and all? It’s been a great year…” Harry said, reflecting on his progressing coming-out narrative. It was like going from taking baby steps, getting more and more comfortable in his own skin until he was out there flicking his grown out locks like he was in a L’Oreal commercial and prancing about like a fairy princess. Whether he was quoting song lyrics with themes of sexual fluidity, coming out, or secrets and flat out derailing everything one Liam Payne said with three simple words…Harry Styles was freer than he’d ever been. It felt like a rebirth. He was like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. “I have a secret,” he’d said with fearlessness (though his heart had been lodged in his throat). It was the little steps that got him there. It was the little things, the moments he relished in where he trampled on Modest! carelessly, recklessly. Or like the fans said…  if ‘chill’ was where Earth was, then Harry was not on Earth. Hell, he wasn’t even in this galaxy most days.

“A bit, “Liam agreed thoughtfully, “but don’t worry. The break will be good for us. Time to unwind. And anyway, we’re back on the horse come February. I’m personally buzzed for the Australian tour.”

“Yeah. Same…” Harry agreed, as they shot through the city lights. “It’ll be summertime…” he added, thinking about the heat and the turquoise water and the gold sand whilst absentmindedly opening Louis’ Twitter and seeing if he had posted anything new, but there was nothing. He checked his Facebook next, like the stalker secret boyfriend that he was. There was nothing new there either. Harry bit his lower lip and closed the pages, slipping the phone back into the back pocket of his jeans.

*****

 

Harry had gotten spruced up for a night on the town. They were going to try and avoid paparazzi by keeping it as low-key as possible. Having given up on styling his hair without his lady Lou, Harry settled for keeping his mop together with a green headscarf and met the boys a few minutes later – not forgetting to dab on his favourite purple coloured lipstick before leaving and throwing on the black low-cut blouse he’d stolen from Gemma. Paparazzi might see him, you know. He was in a very famous boy band after all. Except Harry hated that word. That word. Famous.

Niall had promised it was an ‘underground’ rave hideout. They wouldn’t be seen, he’d _promised_. “It’ll be better if you aren’t seen together, as usual,” he’d shrugged. As usual. Follow the procedure. Don’t push the limits. Follow the rules. Be who they want you to be. Sure, no problem. No problem.

“So…I’ll stick with Zayn, you guys do your own thing?” Louis said, stood beside Zayn who was clad in a leather jacket looking as sharp as ever, but it was Louis who Harry couldn’t stop looking at. Rugged with his facial hair and yet still his pixie prince, that defined jaw, those cheekbones, illuminated by those bright baby blue’s. Harry had always been a goner for this boy. From day one, he’d been a fool in love. The moment ‘oops’ collided into ‘hi’. And to Harry, this pixie prince was a vision in the denim jacket Harry had bought him over a year ago, with the sheepskin collar. Clad in the jacket and black jeans rolled up at the ankles and Vans, his mesh of tattoos, the blue lights from the club glinting against his infinity rope, making it stand out, staring Harry in the eye and making his heart skip a beat. The pulse behind Harry’s anchor tattoo twitched. Someone was singing about a photo not having a price. Harry felt the rhythm pound through his veins as he joined Niall and Liam in the centre of the crowd. Nobody was looking their way or paying them any notice as they danced and blended in, falling into the darkness contrasted with the occasional pulse of the lights in time with the beat, illuminating them for mere seconds and heartbeats of a moment.

_“I’m your biggest fan / I’ll follow you until you until you love me / Papa-paparazzi… Baby, there’s no other superstar / You know that I’ll be your Papa-paparazzi… Promise I’ll be kind / But I won’t stop until that boy is mine…”_

The irony didn’t go amiss by Harry who turned around, expecting to catch a glimpse of Louis and Zayn in the crowd, but of course, Zouis were ‘too cool’ to dance at most outings. Harry pouted. In any case, he thought they might be looming somewhere, perhaps by the bar. Harry looked past the DJ booth and towards the bar were girls wearing only nipple tussles and short skirts with lacy stockings and garter belts were serving customers.

“Mate, they’re on the top balcony having a fag,” Liam said in Harry’s ear, noting his puzzled look, but perhaps it was more of a frazzled, panic stricken look. Liam smirked at Harry and led him toward the bar.

“I wish they’d give up that dirty habit,” Harry complained, letting Liam take him to the bar while Niall ordered the first round of vodka shots.  Noticing Liam’s eye-roll, Harry frowned jabbed him in the chest, “and you should give up, too. Not healthy, you know.”

“For someone who hates smoking, you certainly don’t mind snogging his face off, do you?” Liam teased.

“I make him wash his mouth out first.”

“Sure you do, Styles. Sure you do.”

“I do. I believe in personal hygiene, you know. I’m not about to stick my tongue down his tobacco tasting mouth!”

“Or his weed tasting mouth?” Niall chipped in thoughtfully, earning a scowl from Harry.

“That was a one-time thing. They promised,” Harry sighed, throwing back the first round of vodka shots, not liking to remember the whole fiasco.

“Hey boys,” a brunette barmaid with shiny scarlet lips said, biting her bottom lip as she observed them, dark eyes fanned by thick black eyelashes darkening even more as she took them in, “anything I can get you?”

“Hey babe,” Liam smiled, eyes trailing to her ample breasts, following the trail of her fingertips as they caressed her own neck, “yeah…uh…w-what would you recommend?” he asked, leaning closer into her.

“Are you boys keen to experiment a little? I’ll serve you up my homemade speciality if you like…” she beamed, catching Harry’s eye.

“Sure,” he slurred, momentarily dazed by the demure smile that seemed to oppose everything about the dark glint in her eyes, finding himself confused by the innocent dimpled smile that lit up her face and the rosy orbs blooming in her cheeks that seems to oppose the rotation of her hips as she danced to the beat whilst preparing their drinks. “W-What do you call it? The drink?” Harry asked, clearing his throat.

“Banana BJ,” she smiled, and Harry felt his head spin.

*****

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, can’t they leave me alone for one miserable fucking night?” Louis complained to Zayn, glaring at his phone and taking a deep drag of his smoke with his free hand. He was too hyper-alert and stressed and he could feel the neurosis begin to swim through his veins. It was like he was in prison, a horrible prison in which he was granted visitation access to Harry. That’s what it was like. Being with Harry was like being a criminal, treated as nothing more than a prisoner who was allocated a certain amount of phone calls and a certain amount of visiting hours. Modest had driven a wedge between them, in many ways. If it wasn’t for them, Harry and Louis would still be living together like they used to. Now they were reduced to secret visitations back and forth between London and L.A. When they were together, they were missing in action… as if they were two outlaws who had to avoid the authorities lest be shamed, humiliated and bullied by the power mongers above them.

“What now?” Zayn asked, exhaling smoke and frowning at Louis.

“They want me to meet El tonight at The Ivy for dinner at nine,” Louis answered in a dead tone, his heart having dropped into his shoes.

“What?” Zayn spat, looking outraged on Louis and Harry’s behalf. “No, tell them to fuck off, Lou. This is our night off and they’re not ruining it.”

Louis nervously took another drag of the cigarette, pushing the yellow tip between his lips and inhaling, hoping the mad flutter of his heart would settle. Palms clammy, he was beginning to feel his stomach tie into knots as he imagined Harry’s reaction. Of course, he’d just have to say no. Zayn was right. Say no.

“Yep…” Louis agreed, his breath coming out harshly as he tapped out a reply reading ‘Can’t tonight I’m sorry, the boys and I are celebrating the first night of the break.’ Louis sit ‘send’ and waited for the inevitable.

Not even a minute had elapsed before his phone started ringing. Louis and Zayn shared a worried look.

“No, don’t answer it, turn your phone off!” Zayn instructed, but it was too late. Louis, refusing to be pushed into a corner and forced to hide with his phone turned off answered it automatically, his jaw twitching as he listened to the authoritative  instructions on the other end.

“What part of ‘no’ don’t you idiots understand?”

_“Louis, you know our hands are as tied as yours are. C’mon mate. It’s all set up. This was in the last contract that you knowingly signed, and I’m afraid you can’t back out of it now. You’re bound by the law just as much as we are-”_

“Bound by the law?! That’s absolute bullshit and you know it. I would quite frankly like to know where in the contrast it stipulates anything relating to that!”

_“Section B-14, ‘The artist agrees to any other duties that management may deem appropriate for the welfare of maintaining the band’s success.’ In black and white, Louis. You agreed to carrying out “any other duties” that management “may deem appropriate” when you signed the contract. Don’t get mad at me, buddy. I’m just the messenger, you know that. I’m just saving your arse so that your ‘Eleanor’ quota is filled for the month. It keeps the PR team happy. You know that. Now c’mon, I’ll send a car for you, yeah?”_

Shattered and broken, Louis flatly mumbled something that sounded like heartbroken compliance before disconnecting the call and finding Zayn’s eyes searching his. Louis nodded at him, unsure of what he was trying to convey to his best friend.

“Chin up, babes. It’ll be okay,” he said, cupping Louis’ cheek with his hand and pulling him closer, “in time, you know. It won’t be like this forever. C’mon, let’s get out of here and walk for a bit, yeah? You don’t have to be there for, what, about hour?”

One of the things that Louis probably loved most about Zayn was that he didn’t just listen because he was waiting for his turn to speak, he listened because he cared, because he wanted to understand and to just be there for his friends. Zayn was the one person Louis could tell absolutely anything to and know that it would stay between them. Louis gave Zayn a weak smile and nodded in agreement, walking with Zayn down the stairs from the outside balcony and into the street below, walking together in comfortable silence and lighting up fresh cigarettes as they walked, enjoying the quite. Louis looked up as a streetlight above started flicking and steadily dimming before it went out, leaving the street in total darkness now. Louis edged closer to Zayn, taking another drag of his cigarette. The second thing Louis loved about Zayn was that he didn’t lie to your face to make you feel better. He’d tell you it would be better one day, that it wouldn’t be like this forever, that it would be “okay”. He never promised it would all be fixed, or that it would go away today or tomorrow.

“Zayn?” Louis said, breaking the silence and taking a final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the cracked footpath with the tips of his Vans as Zayn looked at him with his eyebrows raised, “what should I say to H? I can’t bloody well tell him in person, you realise. He’ll lose his shit. He was so looking forward to us spending some time together later…”

“Tell him the truth. It’s one dinner date, Lou. You and Haz will have plenty of the time during the break for yourselves. I know it sucks about tonight, but all you can do is tell him what they said. Do it now before he gets too smashed with the boys.”

Louis felt the doubt swallow him whole, resigning himself to the conclusion that it didn’t matter how he tried to word it, the result was going to be the same – a catatonic quite before the explosion. Louis took a deep breath as he opened his inbox, heart sinking when he saw that there was already a text from Harry waiting there.

_‘Heeeeeeeeeey Boooooobeeeeear xxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooo’_

“Shit,” Louis swore, staring down at all the x’s and o’s and feeling his heart clench.

 _‘Babe, why don’t you and the boys go back to Nialler’s and I’ll meet you there later?’_ Louis tapped out and sent back, trying for a sneaky approach.

The response was almost immediate. ‘ _No Louuuuuu, come down dance with us. Nice lady gave us a drink she calls a ‘Banana Bj’. Its so nice hahahahaha you will like.’_

_‘Harry, I can’t be seen with you down there, you know that. Look, me and Zayn are gonna go out and I’ll meet you back at Niall’s – what time will you be back?’_

“How’s he taking it?” Zayn asked cautiously.

“Haven’t told him yet. He’s asking me to come and meet him in the bar…”

“Lou, you have to tell him because if you don’t he’s gonna find out once he goes on Twitter anyway and sees everyone raving about ‘Elounor’”.

Louis sighed heavily, knowing that Zayn was right. Louis tapped into his inbox again. Quite uncharacteristic of Harry, there was no immediate response. But then again, perhaps it wasn’t all that out of character. Harry did have a tendency to ignore Louis when he was upset and pouting and Louis could imagine him already sat at the bar gloomily with a concerned looking Liam and Niall, a goofy dimpled grin he’d probably be wearing moments before slipping from his face in a heartbeat.

‘ _Haz. Management rang me and told me I have to meet Eleanor at 9 for dinner at The Ivy. I’m sorry babe. I’ve been summoned >< ‘_

Louis’s heart practically jumped out his chest when Harry’s icon lit up and the ringtone started sounding. Harry was calling him.

“H-Haz?” Louis stammered.

“Ring them back and tell them to forget it, Louis.”

“Harry… you know I can’t do that.”

“Don’t do this to me again.”

“Don’t do this to you again? Harry, stop making me be the bad guy. They’re MAKING me do this. Believe you me, Harold, being told out of the blue on my first night of our break that I have wine and dine her was the last thing I wanted to hear! I told the idiot no! He quoted me where in the contract it says I have to, you know how they always do that to blackmail me! Some fine-print bullshit about having agreed to any other ‘duties’ that are deemed necessary or some shit. I would rather be with you, H. You know that,” Louis said rapidly, hands waving about as he tried to convey himself, feeling Zayn’s sympathetic gaze resting on him but feeling the overwhelming tension between the distance separating him and Harry.

“You’re always agreeing to do everything they say like some bitch! Are you their bitch, Lou? For someone who supposedly takes no bullshit from other people, you certainly seem to follow their every order like some little bitch!” Harry sobbed into the phone, his breathing harsh. Louis could tell his nostrils were flaring like some enraged bull and there was no way to get a word in edgeways because a moment later Harry was gone and all Louis could hear was the disconnected beep-beep-beep signal ringing in his ears.

Uncharacteristic indeed.


	2. Over Again

“Hazza?” Liam asked, staring at Harry worriedly before sharing a knowing look with Niall. The rare cloud of darkness and anger seeping through Harry’s face, hardening his eyes and turning his lips into a thin line spelled only one thing. Eleanor.

“No, just forget it!” Harry hissed, shrugging them off him and turning his phone off to make sure he didn’t receive any calls from Louis or be subjected to more text messages. Harry mentally shrugged Louis off, shrugging off Liam and Niall’s concerned glances, shrugging off the entire world.

“Lyla,” he croaked to the barmaid with the impossibly dark eyes who’d served him the ‘Banana Bj’.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Another?” he smiled.

And so he had another of Lyla’s special concoctions which indeed had the fruitiest and sweetest of bananas and a dash of kiwifruit and vodka. Harry downed it in almost one gulp and when he was done he slammed the glass to the table, asking for another fill. Lyla smirked and filled his glass three times over.

“Harry, I think you’ve had enough for one night,” Liam said, interjecting when Harry next asked for a Japanese cocktail.

“Li, it’s fine. I’ll take care of him if you wanna head back to the hotel,” Harry vaguely heard Niall offer and soon they were arguing about it.

“…and you know how he is when this happens, so I don’t think it’s a good idea if he gets himself smashed when he’s depressed!” Liam hissed.

“Am a big boy, boys,” Harry giggled, cheeks flushed red and eyes shining, “go back to the hotel. Can take care of myself.”

“Not on your life, Barry,” Liam said, clapping him on the back, “Daddy Direction and Nialler aren’t letting you out of our sight.”

Harry scowled and looked down, finding the Japanese cocktail waiting there. Harry was impressed with Lyla’s service and speed. Grabbing the drink he nodded his head at her in thanks and smiled, his baby finger raising as he picked the glass up and tipped it back, swallowing the tangy flavour.

“What about you boys?” Lyla asked Liam and Niall.

“Err, well I guess one more wouldn’t hurt! Why don’t you surprise us, love. Prepare us your personal favourite!” Liam suggested with a wink.

Suffice to say it wasn’t long before Liam and Niall were as smashed as Harry was, and completely and utterly the worst caretakers of a thoroughly drunk and hurt Harry Styles.

*****

They called it ‘blackout sex’. Truly frightening and exhilarating, like going up and down the mad loops of a rollercoaster during the sunset or jumping from a plane from thousands of feet, it was the most dead and the most alive you could feel in one moment. Once again, Harry was perfectly ambivalent, conflicted by two opposing courses of action – life and death, meaningless fucking or devoted love, betrayal and loyalty. It was essentially alcoholic-induced amnesia and Harry was in it, finding himself conscious of only snapshots of time, fragments of distorted moments. He was in a strange room. It was his mouth on the soft mounds of her breasts. It was his mouth sucking on her neck, sucking the flesh until it was dotted with purple bites. His body, pressed up against a soft and curvy feminine form, stumbling over furniture in the dark and colliding into a wall. It was his lips seeking hers, tongues pushing together and coiling. It was his raspy moans filling the darkness of the room. There was a dull thumping bass travelling through the walls and Harry was vaguely aware of how cold it was, feeling himself shiver against her breasts that were pressed against his chest.

“Pretty butterfly…” she whispered, tracing his butterfly tattoo, releasing the metaphorical butterflies in his tummy. Where was he? But he didn’t have time to comprehend anything a moment later when she sank to her knees, unzipping his jeans and pulling his throbbing dick out and slipping it between her lips. Harry could hear himself gasping with the dull bass in the background and he could hear the slurping of her mouth on him, the way she bobbed her head up and down, the popping noise as she released him and started pumping, Harry’s hips grinding into her hand. When the heat of her wet mouth took his cock again, he thought he might cry, feeling the delirium overcome him as his hands fell to her head, pulling her hair as she allowed his cock to slip down her throat, gagging around him.

A small part of Harry’s working consciousness felt a little concerned amongst the disorientation. He could have sworn that seconds ago he was pressed against the wall with her hot mouth on him but suddenly they were in a bedroom and he was sucking a breast into his mouth, groaning. Harry’s short term memory seemed broken because the gaps were growing, as if he was watching a damaged movie in which certain scenes were interrupted and you had to skip past them. She was laying on her back on the bed and Harry was unfastening her jean shorts and yanking her panties of and eagerly eating her out like she was his favourite ice cream on a hot summer’s day. She was a writhing mess, reaching out to grasp his curls and yank but Harry was in charge here, and he felt the power seize his veins and the thrill of the dominance overtake him as he flung her arms back, keeping them pinned behind her head as he sucked on her clit that throbbed against his tongue, her wetness saturating his mouth. Harry moaned into her pussy and she groaned in response.

Harry would never know if he’d made her cum or not. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and… and he’d never know.

*****

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like hell. Dehydrated, head pounding, mouth dry and lips chapped, he was distinctly aware that there was a smaller body curled into his. Looking down and expecting to see Louis tucked under his arm, Harry frowned, finding that it was a woman pinned to his side, her legs tangled up with his. Panic seized him in that instance and he felt the world stop spinning. She was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling gently against him. Harry’s heart thundered so hard behind his ribcage that he was afraid it was going to crack the bones. Hesitantly he lifted the covers and saw to his horror that they were both naked. Harry felt sick to his stomach as he observed the woman, trying to recall last night’s events. What the hell had happened? Where was Louis? And then fragments of the evening invaded his brain and it all came crashing down.

“Fuck,” Harry hissed, painfully aware of all the purple bruises and bites littered along her neck. He ironed a hand to his face and sat up, the sheet pooling around his navel as he held his throbbing head in the cup of his hand, remembering Louis explain about management forcing him into a dinner date with Eleanor. Harry could recall his heart breaking in half, and he could remember the last thing he’d said to Louis before hanging up. But how had that led him here? Harry frowned, trying in desperation to remember. And then it hit him. Liam and Niall… the bar… _Lyla_ …the ‘Banana Bjs’ and Japanese cocktails and vodka shots. Jesus, how much had he drunk?

Harry looked down warily at the woman and then it hit him when her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes were dark, like black tunnels or midnight skies, spaced far apart and fanned with thick dark eyelashes. It was her. The barmaid, Lyla.

“Mooorning sexy,” she smirked, jabbing one of his tattooed swallows.

“Err… morning,” he croaked, still clutching his head.

“Hung-over, sweetie? Painkillers are in the top drawer. Take it with some water before you see yourself out.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered, avoiding looking at her now as he turned around and searched for his clothes. “Hey, did we… um…we didn’t…” he started, unsure of how to get the words out, but realising he couldn’t leave without knowing. It wasn’t like he’d been carrying condoms around either.

“Did we fuck? No, I gave you a blowie and you ate me out, but that’s all we did. Scout’s honour.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Still not good. This wasn’t meant to happen. I’m… I’m fucked. I’m sorry, I’m so, so, so sorry. This isn’t like me at all, I… I don’t remember most of last night,” he groaned, feeling his eyes burn up with tears. Back still turned to her, he felt the shame wash through him. What would his mum and Gemma think if they could see him now? What would the boys say if they knew? And Louis…

“Oh honey, don’t cry, now. It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing his cheek and rubbing his back. “Go back home to your boyfriend. Nobody will know. This can be our little secret.”

*****

Harry felt like the worst person on the face of the Earth when he rode back to the hotel in a taxi and looked through his messages. The time on his phone read 11:11AM and there were several frantic texts from Louis and the boys.

_‘Harry, where the fuck did you go? Why aren’t you answering your phone? We’re looking for you man!!!’_

Harry deleted Niall’s message without replying and then clicked into Liam’s. ‘ _Harry Styles, don’t make me call Paul…’_

Harry took a deep breath before opening the first onslaught from Louis. The first message was sent at 1:04AM. _‘I know you’re mad at me Harry but please tell me when you’re coming back… I’m worried about you.’_

Louis’ last text was sent at 4:40AM. By that point sleep appeared to have overcome the older man. At this moment in time, Harry knew he was the worst person in the world. He felt the guilt and shame threaten to choke him as the taxi pulled up at the hotel and he wandered through the lift and into their floor, reaching for his key card in the back of his jeans pocket and swiping it through the door, heart lodged in his throat and pounding ruthlessly.

“Harry!” Louis cried, smacking into Harry the moment he stepped into the room. Louis curled his legs around Harry’s waist and Harry automatically reached around to grab his waist and support him, embracing his boy tightly and sobbing into his neck. Louis tugged his curls and cried with him. Breaking apart a moment later, Harry settled Louis to his feet, taking in how devastated the smaller man looked. He was wearing Harry’s hoodie and was clad in his chequered pyjama pants and his eyes were swollen and red.

“Why didn’t you text me, Harry?! I was worried sick, you fucking idiot!” Louis snapped, pushing Harry back.

“Actually, Lou, I… there’s something we need to talk about and-”

“- I know it’s majorly sucky, and I know you hate it, but I hate it too, Harry. Trust me, I’m the last place I wanna be when I’m with her. I met her at nine and I was back here by ten, waiting up all night for you.”

“- you should sit down,” Harry said while Louis spoke over him but Louis caught his words and frowned, finally taking Harry in and seeming to realise that something wasn’t quite right. Louis didn’t sit down. He clutched onto the kitchen countertop and stared at Harry, eyes widened, landing on Harry’s neck with a wounded look.

“You fucked someone last night didn’t you,” Louis said slowly, in a voice that sounded faraway and unlike his voice, said in a robotic and automatic tone like some pre-programmed voice for a self-checkout at a supermarket. Louis’ eyed Harry up and down, taking in his dishevelled appearance and when his hardened eyes stared pointedly at Harry’s neck, Harry knew he was covered in purple bruises. “How could you?” was all Louis could say, hands curling into fists at his side and Harry was weak, much weaker. He had hurt Louis and once again managed to make it all about himself, backed against the door as he was, he sank to the floor and clasped his giant hands to his face, tears streaming down his face. Louis made him strong. Without Louis, what was he – who was he? Louis was his compass, pointing him home. Louis was his home. Home was a person, not a place, and you could search the world hoping to find something as beautiful as home and realise that it can’t be found on any corner of the Earth unless found in the heart of someone who was home, someone who made you feel whatever ‘home’ was when you were with them and Harry had rendered himself homeless and lifeless. It was all over. He had fucked up the best thing that had ever happened to him and now he sat, mourning for his loss, for his broken heart, sobbing into his hands now soaked with his tears. Harry didn’t dare look up, too scared to see the damage he’d caused.

“Tell me who it was, Harry,” came the same lifeless, robotic tone. Still Harry refused to look up. Louis was at his feet now. He could smell him. He could feel him, his essence, crawling through his veins. “Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you!” Louis shouted, grabbing Harry’s collar and jerking his head up. Harry’s eyes, like Louis’, were now red and puffy. “How could you? How could you throw it all away on a quick meaningless fuck? Was it worth it? And all because of the Eleanor thing. It was all because of me leaving to go to dinner with her, wasn’t it?” Louis asked slowly. Harry closed his eyes and nodded, feeling so small and worthless.

“I didn’t…I didn’t…we didn’t, Lou,” Harry whispered, eyes still closed as a single tear fell from his wet eyelashes.

“Tell me everything. Now,” Louis demanded in that same emotionless voice.

“I… I had blackout’s all throughout. I…I remember texting you, asking you to come downstairs and you said no and then you had to go to dinner with _her_ and I just got so mad, Lou. I just…I felt so sick of the world thinking she belonged to you and I wanted everyone to know you were mine and I felt rejected. And I know it was stupid, I just… I just hated that feeling, so…I kept taking the drinks. She was making something…some speciality…it tasted like bananas. So then, I… I remember calling you and getting mad at you and hanging up and Niall and Liam arguing about me and I told them I was fine. But they stayed and we kept drinking and then I don’t know what happened or how it happened but I was somewhere. I think I was outside. There was a girl. We were making out and then she was… she gave me a blowjob and then I had a blackout and I didn’t remember anything, just fragments. I came to and then I was in a room, I suppose her bedroom. I went down on her, but I swear, that’s all. I woke up in the morning feeling like hell. I still feel like hell. It was the girl who served the drinks and she told me we didn’t… we didn’t do anything except what I told you. That’s it.”

“Oh, because going down on some random slut and letting her suck you off is perfectly FINE? Fuck you!” Louis said sharply, standing over Harry, who looked up and caught sight of Louis looking ashen and ill, tears continuing to fall along his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry, Lou. I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered, looking away, unable to stare at the way his heart was breaking. Louis, Louis who was his heart, visibly breaking in front of him. If Louis was Harry’s heart, tattooed proudly on his bicep, Harry had just murdered himself, had stopped the beating of his precious heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continued to chant, closing his eyes and wishing he could take it all back, wishing he could go back in time and change everything.

“I’m…I’m going back to England, Harry. I can’t be here. I have to go,” Louis muttered, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve as he turned on his heel to the bedroom to start packing and Harry didn’t even try to stop him, knowing he wasn’t worthy of trying to beg for Louis’ forgiveness.

“Is this it, Louis? Did I fuck it all up?” Harry wondered, when Louis came out of the bedroom with his suitcase moments later.

“I…I need time. I need to be alone for a bit,” was the only response he got. Harry nodded, clumsily rising to his feet to get out of Louis’ way and make for the kitchen to get some water, his head still pounding. It was so bad he felt like his head was splitting open. As he wandered to the kitchen, everything went dizzy and he felt far away, like a waterfall was going through him… he felt strange – light and barely there, like he wasn’t there at all, like he was fading away. Everything went dark and foggy and Harry felt himself falling and then there was nothing.

*****

“Harry?” a soft voice squeaked at him. Harry’s eyes fluttered open a moment later, the harsh lights from the room meeting his eyes. It look a moment for Harry to realise that his head was laying in Louis lap and Louis’ fingers were combing through his knotty curls and he was laying in his own vomit. It was sticking to his neck and pooling on his chest, splattered to the collar of his shirt, bits in his hair, bits of crisps and that pizza they shared in the trailer mixed with the alcohol meshed together. Harry groaned and curled onto his side, feeling the nausea paralyse him.

“Please,” he cried, not knowing what he was begging for as he reached up for Louis and grabbed his shirt, tugging the material of the hoodie. Please don’t leave me. Please forgive me. Please help me.

“ _Tell me I’m a screwed up mess / That I never listen, listen / That you need your distance, distance…”_

And soon the sobs were charging through his body. Shoulders trembling, he lay his head in Louis’ lap, soaking the boy’s pyjama pants with his tears.

“I’ll run you a bath,” Louis said quietly, tugging Harry’s vomit covered shirt off and Harry cried harder than ever, not understanding why Louis wasn’t leaving him to rot on the floor in his pile of vomit like he deserved. Helping Harry to his feet, Louis led him into the bathroom off their bedroom suite and sat Harry down on the toilet seat before turning to run the bath and fill it with the strawberry scented bath soaps.

“I’d understand,” Harry said, breathing harshly and closing his eyes as the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach rose, the contents still swirling in his stomach and looking for an exit.

“Understand what, Harry?” Louis asked tersely.

“If you leave me,” Harry answered, and as painful as it was to say, he had to get it out. Louis deserved better. Louis deserved all the happiness in the world and it destroyed Harry, knowing that he had hurt his baby, his Louis, his heart. Before Louis could answer, it was all coming up again. Quickly Harry leapt off the toilet and sank to his knees, lifting the lid and spewing his guts into the bowl. Louis came up behind him and leant over him, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail as to not get more vomit in it.

“I won’t lie, Harry. I will need time. I need to see my mum. I need to talk to Zayn. I need to be alone. But right now, you need me, so I’m here. I’m here until you’re sorted out,” Louis said quietly, pulling Harry over to the edge of the bath and removing his jeans and briefs before directing him to sit in the bathtub. Coming up behind him, Louis proceeded to wash Harry’s hair, silent tears falling down his cheeks. Harry heard his quite sniffles and knew.

“I’ve never… before. Just so you know. There’s never been anyone but you, Lou. It was always you. I just…I fucked up. I felt sorry for myself with you going out with her and I near poisoned myself… I blacked out most the night. Anything could have happened with me in that state and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Louis said nothing, just continued to wash his hair and rinse it for him. Once he was cleaned up, Louis helped dress him in some sweatpants. Harry mumbled his thanks and fell on top of the bed. It was past midday and Harry was out like a light.


End file.
